


Kundimâlh

by durin (frafeyrac)



Series: Tales From Ered Luin [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Baby Dwarves, Brotherly Affection, Ered Luin, Gen, Minor Character Death, Mother-Son Relationship, Young Fíli, Young Kíli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frafeyrac/pseuds/durin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><b>Fíli</b> remembers he was young when he left the Orocani Mountains<br/><b>Kíli</b> remembers clinging to the neck of a worn down pony.<br/><b>Dís</b> remembers the hardest year of her life.</p>
  <p>The first instalment of the Tales From Ered Luin.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Kundimâlh

Fíli had only been seven when he left the Orocani's, his mother bundling him and his brother onto the back of a pony that wore the royal crest. He could remember Amad crying and Kíli tugging at his hair and falling asleep with his head on his back. Ada had told Fíli to keep them safe, to help Amad and make sure Kíli grew up big and strong. There was a steely determination in the expression of the young khuz, the way he held the reins of the pony in his fat fists and sat up as straight as he could at all time. Amad walked beside them now, when they'd first left Stonefoots she'd sat behind Kíli. As the food ran lower and Fíli grew taller, the pony became too skinny to carry Dís and her sons.

Every night Dís would tuck them in in old blankets. Kíli sometimes woke crying in the night, cold, hungry and frightened. Fíli would open his blankets and let his brother curl into his side. It wasn't fair to wake Amad, Fíli could see how tired their journey made her. Fíli would often be kept awake by Kíli's snuffling and tossing in his sleep, but he followed Ada's words. He stayed alert, his ears listening and eyes straining to see in the dark. The first few weeks they'd left Amad had spent her nights crying into her blankets, and sometimes Fíli had joined her with his own tears. Ada had promised he'd join them after the war with the Ironfists, promised that he'd join them on the road to Ered Luin where they could be princes of Durin's folk. Kíli was young enough to believe him, and it had been a dark night when Dís received a raven telling her of the death of her husband and she'd called Fíli over. He'd buried his head in her breast and wept, Dís had cried her own silent tears while Kíli slept in his blankets. 

Fíli was walking beside his pony, feet dragging along the ground while Kíli rode. Amad had promised they hadn't got much further to go, but Fíli wasn't convinced, tugging at her skirts and kicking up dust and mud on the road. The rich green cottons of the Stonefoots were now ragged and stained, the pony thin and worn down and the two boys looked more like children from the mines than princes of the line of Durin and the line of Vár. He'd been mumbling under his breath about how it wasn't fair that Kíli got to ride the pony, and how his feet hurt. Dís had listened to her eldest son in silence, she didn't have the heart to tell him that the pony was too weak to carry both him, and his brother. Fíli had been a happy, chubby young prince when they'd first left, he skinned the rabbits the way Ada had taught him too, and sang loudly as he rode, singing the songs Amad had taught in broken khuzdul, humming to replace the words he didn't know. Fíli was no songbird but Dís missed his singing now they were closer to Ered Luin, her son had lost all his puppy fat. She spent as much time as she could thinking about the new halls Thorin had told her about in his ravens, the modest grandeur of his new city. She had told Thorin about the war between the Ironfists and the Stonefoots. Dís had known her sister-in-law briefly, Vídi had been betrothed to the Ironfist prince Dís would have married if the Stonefoots showed no interest in her hand. Vídi had spoken to Dís about her horror at finding her new husband to be a dwarf twice her age. Dís had not been surprised when Vídi escaped one night, taking with her a warrior whom she had fallen in love with. Vídi had returned to the Ironfists pregnant with the child of her lover. The king had declared war on the Stonefoots for this betrayal, and the prince of the Stonefoots had pleaded with his father and his wife for their safe passage to her brother in Ered Luin, and the safety of his family. 

Dís had told the stories of Thorin to her sons, Thorin her brother who had his own set of wooden soldiers who always won, Thorin who had protected her when the dragon came and her home was lost. Thorin the war hero had scared Kíli and he'd cried. Thorin the war hero had left Fíli with eyes shining bright and a new hero in his life now Ada had gone. Dís saw the difference in her sons there, while she comforted Kíli that night and Fíli had drawn Thorin fighting the mighty dragon in the dark sand. Fíli would practice fighting with wooden sticks, he wielded two in a way he'd seen his father with his two swords. Fíli had been too little to use them, but Ada had given him an axe he kept strapped to his side. Ada had shown him how to throw it with perfect aim, and it was his aim that caught them the rabbits, Dís knew she was too loud and they ran when they heard her. Fíli was light on his feet, bounding through the long grasses silently. He threw his axe, and each night they ate rabbit for dinner. 

It was Dís who had first caught sight of the goblins on the road. They were still another day from Ered Luin, and it was strange to find goblins in these parts. There were three of them, each as worn down and rugged as the next. Dís had called her son to her, eyes searching for the gap in the rough hedgerow that bordered the main road. She saw the gap and darted across the road as quickly as she could, the pony breaking into a trot as Kíli bounced on his back. She had a finger to her lips, waiting for her eldest son to join her. Goblins, even rogues, would not think twice about killing a dwarrow woman and her two sons for a run down pony and the little possessions they had. They'd killed for less. Dís was motioning with her hands as her son walked, glancing over his shoulder and pausing a little too long. There was a cry from a goblin and Dís felt her heart burst, giving the pony a tap on his rump and letting go her grip on the guiding rope. She motioned her arms for Fíli to jump, and he leapt into her arms as she ran after the pony. The path was overgrown, reaching the knees of the pony and coming to breast height. Dís could see where the pony had stopped by the river, out of sight and waiting on his mistress. His young rider was gripping tight onto his mane, the pony had sighed. His mistress was not unkind to him, and he'd grown used to the prodding and poking of small hands. All the hair pulling and bouncing on his back was worth his handful of oats and his apple, even if there was less oats each day and he hadn't had apple in a long time. The pats he received from the small hands when they didn't poke him, and the soft words spoken in his ear were enough reward for a hardy pony. His job was to obey his mistress and young masters, he was a loyal and proud pony and even when the food ran low and the days were long and tiring he tried his best for the soft words and pats from small hands. Over the years he'd obeyed many a cruel master who beat him with a stick for being too slow or pulled at his mouth for being too fast, but the young dwarrow on his back did neither. The pony had stopped at the river, and the dwarrow on his back had kept his hands in his mane, saying words softly in a language that the pony didn't understand.

Dís ran with Fíli in her arms, stumbling and tripping amongst the weeds. Fíli clung to her neck, restricting her movements as she ran. She could see the pony and the dark bundle pressed up against his neck ahead. The path widened at the river, opening out. Once over the river the forgotten road was flanked by woodland, places easy to hide from any goblin patrols or groups of rogues. Dís kept running, the greens of her clothes blending with the grasses, her steel capped boots flying over the ground without more than a soft clink of metal on old stone. She slowed when she reached the pony, and Kíli had let out a soft cry at the sight of his mother. Dís had pressed a finger to her lips and shushed him, waiting until she could see no sign of the goblin rogues. 

They slept by the river bank, the pony was tied loosely. He ate at what grass he could find and drank from the river, he had forgotten what it felt like to eat until he was full and drink without limits. The water from the river was clear and the stone bed meant there was no sand or mud in each mouthful of water. Dís drank from the river too, filling the skins she'd brought with her. Fíli had made traps with spare rope and bits of the trees, catching three rabbits and Dís helped him to skin them. Kíli had seen the fish in the river, and it had taken Dís several attempts to finally capture two big, fat fish. Fíli ate so quickly, pulling the meat from the bones of the rabbit and letting the juices run down his fingers. He was laughing and smiling and a shadow of the prince he'd been in the Orocani's. Dís remembered that it was his smile that was why she was doing this, why she was taking her sons and keeping them safe. Kíli was slower with his food, savouring each mouthful and giving his leftover fish to his brother. Dís made sure the pony wouldn't wander in the night as the sky became darker. She'd lit a fire and kept it low, the world at peace around them as they were swallowed and forgotten about on the path they'd chosen. Dís had unravelled dirty and frayed blankets and given her sons the cleanest, stripping them of their clothes and washing them in the river, leaving them out near the fire to dry. She was scrubbing at the stains of rabbit from the front of Fíli's green tunic when she heard a twig snap, her whole body turning only to see the pony had taken a step backwards. That night, Dís had slept between her sons, her arms around both boys. She was all they had left now, their protector and their mother. She would do her best by them to take them to her brother, to keep them safe and alive. 

When morning had broken, it was Dís who woke first. For once, Fíli had slept through the night while Kíli's head was on her shoulder, this thumb in his mouth. They had enough rabbit left for a small breakfast, and Dís was able to manoeuvre herself away from her boys without waking them. They seemed to find each other and Kíli curled into his brothers side now. Their clothes were dry and whilst they would never be the rich green again they were clean. Some of the blankets were still damp, and the pony was watching, his dark eyes were bright as he watched his mistress. Dís found herbs and mint, and took a handful of leaves for the pony, who whickered his thanks as his nose began to run and he tossed his head up, rolling his lip back and rubbing his tongue against his teeth. There was laughter, and Kíli was sat up in his mess of blankets. He was as naked as the day he was born, clapping his hands. Dís humoured him, smiling as she cut the last of the rabbit with her knife. 

It was Fíli who dressed his brother, after he'd been woken up by his laughter and the smell of a roasting rabbit. Amad had brought it over to them, and Fíli had taken the rabbit and the cup of water with the same hunger he'd shown the night before. This rabbit had been one of the best they'd had, and there was something light in the water. The stream seemed to have brought out a new happiness, even when Amad told Fíli he had a days walk ahead of him. Amad also told him he'd be seeing Thorin, his war hero, that evening when, if, they arrived in Ered Luin. Fíli had been overjoyed, as Dís had packed the pony he'd been playing with his axe, practicing to show his uncle what he could do, he said. Kíli was hoisted onto the pony, as per usual. Gripping on to the front of his saddle with his hands in fists, reins and bits of mane managing to be caught up between his fingers. Fíli had run ahead, laughing as he saw butterflies. The path was still as overgrown and wild, even though it was wider now it had joined with the forgotten road. Fíli sometimes ran too far, when Amad couldn't see him and would call him back and each time Fíli cam with some new sight or observation. It was after three hours of walking his feet began to drag and the excitement of seeing uncle and energy from a proper meal and a good nights sleep began to wear off and Fíli had had enough of the games Amad played. Fíli wanted to ride the pony, but Amad told him no, that he was a big boy now. 

It was beginning to get dark, the sky changing from light blue to indigo when Dís had seen the light of the dwarvern settlement, at the end of the path. It was nought more than a spark in the distance, but she'd danced on her feet and told her wearing sons. She had a new spring in her step, a new light in her eye at the thoughts of her brother, of being a princess amongst her own people and her sons once again being princes, and Fíli, Fíli with hair as golden as her mothers had been, as golden as Frerin's had been. Her son who would be a prince amongst his own people, and then be a king. Fíli, the heir to two kingdoms. It was dark, nearly black when the Blue Mountains loomed ahead, and Dís saw the rock hewn entrance to Ered Luin. To her city, her place. She remembered walking through the gates, the rope of a tired, worn down pony in one hand, her sleeping son on her hip. She was weatherbeaten and thin, her hair matted and tangled and clothes muddy and ragged. To all those who saw her she was easily recognisable, and whispers followed her, whispers that the Thráin's Songbird had returned.

**Author's Note:**

> There are several things about this I will go back and add too and change.  
> I haven't read through it yet, but as I'm not on my normal computer I just wanted to get this posted.
> 
> I feel the ending is quite rushed, I haven't written much in a while and I'm rusty, so apologies.  
> There are a lot of my headcanons in here, so I apologise for that, too.
> 
> There's no speech for this first instalment, I think it worked without speech. I can't see Kíli or Fíli talking more than broken sentences at the ages they're at and thought speech would take away from it. Theres a lot more that I wish I'd found a way to fit in and there will be speech and some other delicious easter eggs as I write more and more.


End file.
